


Prove to Me (It's Real)

by HildegardBi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Schizophrenia, Spencer thinks he's crazy, Supernatural Is Real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:15:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HildegardBi/pseuds/HildegardBi
Summary: Spencer sees something that he's not supposed to. And he doesn't even know if it's real...AKA Spencer is exposed to the supernatural and becomes convinced he's hallucinating.
Comments: 72
Kudos: 206





	1. My Eyes Lie

**Author's Note:**

> There are not enough Supernatural/Criminal Minds fits, so I took matters into my own hands! I realized that in most fics, Spencer always is ready to accept the supernatural or already knows about it. And I thought it'd be interesting to have him reject it, especially considering how one of his fears is becoming schizophrenic (at least in my interpretation of certain episodes where his mother or his own health is brought up). Also, please correct me if I say anything inaccurate about schizophrenia.
> 
> Also, I cannot decide between JJ or J.J. so let me know which one looks better.

"Aw, come on Reid," Morgan says. "We're off tomorrow."

"One more drink?" Garcia suggests, smiling devilishly.

Spencer rolls his eyes. "You guys might be used to staying out late, but I like to be home before midnight."

"So you can stay up until three?" J.J. teases. She takes another sip of her drink and wiggles her eyebrows. Spencer chuckles. "We haven't all been out for weeks. Just one more drink?"

Prentiss wraps her arm around J.J. "How can you say no to this face?" Prentiss says, and her and J.J. pout at Spencer.

"You guys have kept me out long enough," Spencer says standing up and putting his bag over his shoulder. He smiles again and finishes off his beer. His cheeks feel a bit flushed. If he were to have another drink, he'd probably push past tipsy to drunk. And unlike Morgan, Spencer's not especially fond of being drunk. It's too disorienting.

"Alright, okay," J.J. concedes. "But let us know when you get back."

Spencer laughs again. "You really think something's gonna happen on the way home? J.J., it's like a five block walk."

Garcia shrugs and swirls the straw in her drink. It's almost as orange as the sweater she's wearing, which is pretty impressive. She had Spencer taste it, insisting it was amazing, but Spencer thinks it tasted more like melted down candy corn than an actual drink. She looks up from her drink. "Just... I know it's close, and I know you'll probably be fine... but I need to know my babies are okay. That goes for all of you!" She points emphatically at Morgan, who chuckles as he raises his glass to cheers her.

"Baby girl, you know you don't got to worry about me," Morgan teases.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're the one I have to worry about most," Garcia teases back.

It has been so long since all of them have been able to go out. And Spencer loves nights like these. He loves how warm he feels sitting around a cramped table with his friends, how they feel so familiar and safe and how they're always able to make him laugh and forget about all the crappy shit he's seen in the world.

But it's late, the bar's getting too crowded, and Spencer can only take so much of drunk strangers bumping into him and spilling beer down his back.

"I'll text you as soon as I get home," Spencer promises, "as long as you do the same."

"Fine, but don't complain when you get a bunch of texts at four in the morning," Morgan says winking.

J.J. stares at Morgan exasperated. "Four in the morning? You can stay here that late, but I don't even think the bartenders will be here anymore."

"Who says anything about staying here?" Morgan smirks.

Spencer shakes his head and laughs. "Make sure he doesn't get in trouble," he tells Garcia. She salutes him and takes a long sip from her orange concoction.

"Aye-aye!"

He salutes her back. "Night guys." _I love you._ He never says it out loud. It's not something he does.

"Night Reid!"

"Get home safe!"

"Remember to text us."

Spencer waves again before leaving the bar. Outside are a bunch of people smoking and talking too loud. He covers his mouth as he passes them. His clothes are probably going to smell like tobacco now.

There's something about walking back from the bar that's always peaceful. Once he gets away from the drunk people waiting for their Uber or looking for a place to eat. Once he's about a block away, it starts to get quiet and the air smells a bit fresher (less like cigarettes and beer). Even when it's a little cool out, like tonight, he never really feels cold. It always feels so nice coming out of a hot cramped bar into a cool night.

The sky is clear. One of those nights where you can see the stars. Spencer used to hate living in a city. There's too much light, and not enough stars.

There's a small park not too far from his house. It's one of those nights where it's nice to be outside for a bit. Maybe it's a bad idea to sit alone in a park at night, but it's not far from his house. Maybe it's because he's stilled a bit tipsy that he decides to head towards the park.

As far as parks go, it's not much. A small playground, some swings, picnic tables and benches. It's always dark at night. Technically it closes at sunset, but it's not actually illegal to sit in a park. Spencer's come here a few times after sunset, to look at the stars or moon or whatever planets up. Usually in winter he can see Venus, but unfortunately, it's spring, so it'll be a while before he sees Venus again. It's too bad. Even with all the light pollution, Venus is always visible on a clear night.

Spencer sits on the swing, letting his feet dangle. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The trees will start blooming soon. Maybe he can convince someone to go to D.C. with him to see Cherry Blossoms.

It's a silly thing. None of his team would ever imagine him looking forward to the Cherry Blossoms blooming. But it's pretty, and no one can deny that. Plus, he could stop at the National Air and Space Museum. It's been a while since he's been there.

He opens his eyes again. The moon is bright, and the park doesn't feel as dark as it did before. There's more stars out too. If he's right, that's Ursa Major...

Something rustles in the bushes. Spencer's body tenses, waiting. It's probably just a squirrel or rabbit, maybe a deer.

But something in him is screaming danger. It'd probably be good to head home now. J.J. will get worried if he doesn't text her soon.

Spencer stands up and looks around. The bushes rustle again. He starts walking fast.

Someone appears in front of him, a man who's even taller than him. "Get back!" he yells pushing past Spencer. Spencer turns, watching as he pulls a machete from inside his jacket.

 _You need to move. You need to get home._ But Spencer doesn't move.

"Sir, put the weapon away!" Spencer says. He turns around to face the man. He's pacing around the park, looking for something. "My name is Spencer Reid. I'm with the FBI."

The man freezes, turning away from Spencer quickly. His shoulders tense up. The man slowly moves the blade out of Spencer's line of sight. "Look, I'm not trying to cause any trouble."

"We can just talk then," Spencer says. The man's posture is stiff, uncomfortable. Most likely afraid. Spencer's caught him doing something, and he knows it. "I'm unarmed." Spencer holds his hands up, waiting for the man to turn around and confirm for himself. He doesn't.

He doesn't turn around because he doesn't want Spencer to see his face again. He wants to make sure Spencer can't identify him.

Spencer doesn't have his gun on him. He has his badge, but that's not much good right now. But as long as the man has nothing besides a machete, Spencer can get out of here safely. He reaches into his pocket to call for back-up, when the man turns around slightly. He sees Spencer's hand reaching for his pocket and takes off.

Spencer pulls out his phone and calls for help. "Requesting back-up! There is a man with a machete in the park off--"

The phone flies out of Spencer's hand as he's knocked on the ground. He looks up, expecting to see the man again.

It's not the man. It's not _even_ a man. It can't be. It's teeth are too sharp, too jagged. It's not real. It can't be real.

But if it's not real... oh god, if it's not real...

"Dean!" Something knocks the thing off him. He scrambles back, catching his breath. Shit, it's not real. It's not real. He's... hallucinating? Maybe it was just the lighting. Maybe he didn't see it right.

Spencer closes his eyes and winces. Because he knows if he opens his eyes, he'll see something else. Something that's not real when there's something out here that might be real and dangerous. But was that man even here?

Someone nudges him. "Hey, you okay?" Spencer keeps his eyes closed. "Think he's unconscious?" Someone pokes his arm again.

"Dean, we should go. He's an... _FBI agent_. We need to get out of here."

"There might be more out there. You wanna just leave him out here?"

"You got a better idea? You're the one who's wanted."

 _Wanted_?

Spencer opens one eye slowly. Two men are standing a bit away, facing away from him. One turns slightly, showing his face. Showing a face that shouldn't... Spencer shouldn't be seeing.

Because the man standing there is dead. Was declared officially dead.

Because there is no way Spencer is actually seeing Dean Winchester.


	2. See but Don't Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of blood and a corpse

"Oh shit," Dean mutters. The agent is watching them through one eye. He turns around, pulling Sam to face away.

"What now Dean?" Sam hisses.

Dean sighs, waiting for the agent to say something. To call for back-up. But there's nothing. Maybe the guy ran away?

He peeks over his shoulder at the agent. He's laying in the same spot, staring at the vamp's head. Him and Sam need to get out of here-- fast. This won't look good if any other agents come. Hell, it already doesn't look good, and they have a witness. A federal agent no less.

But the kid looks too scrawny and nerdy to be an agent. "Sure this guys a fed?" Dean whispers to Sam. "He doesn't really look like one."

"Said he was with the FBI," Sam whispers back. He pulls out his phone and searches "Spencer Reid".

Dean snorts. "Nerd alert. Three doctorates?" He looks back at the agent. He still hasn't moved. "Shouldn't he be doing something?"

Reid stares. There is a human-- no, not human head, whatever that... that thing was, it was not human-- just out of reach. There's a headless body next to Reid. It's barely bleeding. There should be more blood than that. There has to be more blood than that.

"Do you think he's okay? He got knocked down pretty hard?"

Reid squeezes his eyes shut. It isn't real. He just has to wake up. He had too much to drink and has having a nightmare. A very vivid nightmare.

Something pokes his leg. "Hey, kid, you alright?"

Reid will open his eyes. He'll open his eyes and see Morgan. He'll see Morgan because he passed out in the bar, hit his head, and had a way too real feeling dream induced by a mixture of trauma to the head and alcohol.

Reid opens his eyes.

It's not Morgan.

"No, this... none of this is real," Reid demands. He sits up, staring around the park. Watching for something that shows him this is a dream. That it isn't real.

Everything looks like it should though. Not like it would in a dream. He looks at his hand. If he were dreaming, he wouldn't have five fingers.

"None of this is real," Reid repeats.

"Hate to tell you this, but it's very real," the man says. The man who looks exactly like Dean Winchester. Who should be dead. Who was declared _legally dead_.

Reid looks at his hand, staring at it. Waiting for it to change shape. Something! Anything!

"You're not dreaming kid," the man repeats. The man who cannot be Dean Winchester. Because Dean Winchester was declared dead. Because a man cannot fake his death twice. Because the police station was destroyed. Because DNA of both Dean and Sam Winchester was found in the wreckage.

"I'm not dreaming," Reid repeats softly. He blinks his eyes, trying to focus them back on Dean's face. "But this... isn't real." Reid pushes himself off the ground, stumbling as he stands. He looks down at the head, it's eyes almost black. Too many teeth. Teeth too sharp. Reid leans over and pukes.

"Hey, hey, breathe." This voice is softer. Sam Winchester. Reid heaves again. He takes a breath and spits. He looks back over at the body, now that he has a better vantage point. Because he didn't see blood before but that was just because he was on the ground and wasn't at a good angle to see a liquid in the dark. 

Because there should be blood. There should be blood and there isn't.

Reid takes a step. "Woah, easy there." Sam grabs Reid's shoulder. It feels too real. But it's not. It's not real because none of this is possible. Because even if it was possible, there's no blood on Reid. He looks down, not expecting to see any body, any head. But it's still there.

He presses against his head, against the headache that's building.

"I have... I have to call. I have to call someone," Reid says.

Because if this was real, he would be dead by now. He's a witness. With two men this dangerous, he would be dead.

"I have to call someone," Reid repeats. He doesn't move.

Sam takes his hand from his shoulder. Reid's heart is pounding. He presses into his head harder. It feels like his head is going to explode, which technically speaking is impossible.

Someone taps his shoulder. Reid pulls his hands away, looking up. Hoping.

But it's Sam, standing there with his phone. "Here."

Reid takes it. His hands shaking. "Just, dude, be chill, and don't report us, okay?" Dean's voice is too nervous to be joking. Nervous? No, concerned. His eyebrows are low, a sign of distress, but not of nerves.

There's a body, a head, and two criminals who should be dead. Reid stares at his phone before opening it and dialing.

"Reid, hey, did you get home safe?"

He stares. At the head, at the it's teeth that are too sharp and the lack of blood surrounding it. He's seen a decapitated body before. This isn't how it should look.

"Reid?"

Standing next to him are two wanted criminals. Two wanted serial killers. Well, they would be wanted. But they're dead. Legally and completely dead.

"Sorry," Reid clears his throat. "When I got home, I just... I started thinking about that case."

The two serial killers, the two dead serial killers stare at him.

"Do you need me to come over?"

Reid shakes his head. "No, uh, no. I just... um, do you think Hotch would be okay if I took some time off?"

Dean raises his eyebrow at Reid. He's confused by Reid's behavior. It doesn't matter what he thinks though because he's not real. There's no solid proof any of this is real. Just what his eyes are showing him.

"Are you sure you're okay Reid?" JJ's voice is soft. Too soft. She's concerned for him. Worried.

"I will be. It just... it's hard when you can't save them."

Reid squeezes his eyes shut. He's never been a good liar. Not for big stuff. He has an okay poker face, but it wouldn't take a profiler to figure out he's lying by watching his behavior.

But it's just a phone call and it's an easy lie, something they've all felt and all said. And JJ will believe him. She'll be concerned, but not as much as if he told her why he really called.

And if he's being honest, if he says it out loud it becomes real. It becomes real and he can't escape it.

JJ takes a deep breath. "I know Reid. We did the best we could."

Reid can't remember the case right now. Tries to, but he can't. His brain always works. His memory never fails him. Not even when drunk.

"Call me in the morning?" JJ says.

"Of course. Night JJ."

"Night Reid."

He hangs up. His hands shake. His brain screams at him to run home, sleep it off, and wake up in a world where this was all a dream.

But on the off chance it's real, he pulls out his phone. He makes sure to add *67 before the number.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"


	3. What is Real

"I can't believe you gave him his phone back," Dean mutters as he grabs the feet of the body.

Sam grabs the torso, grimacing at the stump where it's head used to be attached. "What else was I supposed to do? He didn't even say anything about us, just the body."

"Just because we got lucky doesn't mean it was smart." Dean adjusts his grip. "Who knows how long we got before the cops get here?" They reach the truck of the car and toss the body in.

"He said we'd have exactly seven minutes before any police showed up," Sam says. He grabs bleach from the trunk and dilutes it with water. "Go grab the head. I'm going to try to rinse away any evidence."

Dean grumbles to himself, walking over to the head. "Not like there's much blood."

"We don't want any evidence Dean," Sam argues walking past Dean. He starts pouring the mixture over the grass.

Dean picks the head up, frowning at it. "Says the guy who let a Federal Agent call for help."

"Hey, hopefully it helped him realize we're not the bad guys." Sam dumps the rest of the mixture where the head had been. He follows Dean back to the car, where Dean unceremoniously stuffs the head into a bag.

"Let's just get out of here before any cops show up."

Reid sits on the couch, his head in his hands. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His body is tense, his heart is pounding. He's having a panic attack, and regulating his breathing will help him calm down.

Deep breath in. Hold it. Out. Deep breath in. Hold it. Out.

Tomorrow he'll check the police reports. Seven minutes isn't enough time to clean a crime scene. Something will be left behind. If there's no reports of a body being found, he can check it out himself tomorrow. He'll get up early. It's a work day tomorrow. It won't be crowded. He'll have a chance to look at it for himself. All he is to do is just get a few hours of sleep. Wait for the sun to come up. It's only a few hours. He just needs to get to bed.

He doesn't move.

He hears sirens, and he contemplates getting up, going to the park. What would he even say though? He made the phone call. He was a witness. But what he saw wasn't real. How can he be a reliable witness if he doesn't even know what was real? If any of it happened?

Reid takes another deep breath, his body shaking.

It's only a few hours until morning.

He can wait.

By the time the sky turns gray, Reid still hasn't moved. He feels numb. He's tried to rationalize what he saw... what happened. Of course he knows about the Winchester's history. Knows that they show up after crimes have been reported and leave after they stop. He knows that their profile fits more with vigilantes than murderers... but there are also rumors. Theories that the Winchesters have a shared delusion that they are protecting people from the supernatural.

There is no concrete proof of the supernatural. There are personal accounts of course. Stories people tell. Videos online that Reid can easily prove are doctored.

If Reid cannot find another explanation for what he saw... then what he saw couldn't have been real. He saw it. He knows how real it felt... how real it seemed... and if he can't prove its real... and with his mother's history... there's a chance...

There's a chance none of it happened.

Reid pushes himself off the couch. He walks towards his door, his heart pounding with every step. His body feels heavy, most likely from the lack of sleep. It takes him longer than usual to get to the park.

It's still dark out, the sky just a few shades lighter than black.

There's no police tape at the park.

Reid knows where the body was... where the blood collected, where the head landed...

He stares at that spot, kneeling down closer to inspect it.

He can hear his heart beat in his head.

There's nothing there.

He leans in closer, uses his phone as a flashlight, separating blades of grass, searching for something, anything.

When the sky turns blue instead of gray, he forces himself to stop looking.

He stands up, his body shaking.

It wasn't real.

He grabs his head, pressing against his temples. He tries to breath.

It wasn't real.

Deep breath in. Hold. Out.

In.

Hold.

Out.

In.

Hold.

Out.

In.

Out.


	4. Changing Reality

Hotch had given them the morning off. Time to rest after the long case they had. It's 10:30. If he wants to make it to work on time, he has to leave by 11:30. That's an hour. An hour to get ready and eat and call JJ to tell her he's okay.

An hour doesn't feel like enough time. He pulls out his phone and dials Hotch's number. "SSA Hotchner." He's always so formal when answering. He has Reid's number, knows its Reid calling. But he always has to be formal.

"Hey Hotch," Reid says. His voice cracks. "Um, if it's okay, I'd like to take a personal day today."

"Of course. Is everything alright?"

Reid rubs his forehead. He might be losing his mind. He saw something last night that wasn't real. "Just need some off. After the case."

Hotch is quiet for a second. "Of course Reid. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks Hotch. Bye." Reid hangs up. His hands are shaking. He should drink some water.

Slowly, he forces himself to stand up and get a glass of water from the kitchen. It tastes stale, but he downs half the glass.

He should schedule a doctor's appointment. Maybe with a psychiatrist. He'll do research, find a good doctor.

Reid doesn't know what he expects though. He knows what he saw last night couldn't be real; that it wasn't real. It felt so real though...

If what happened last night was impossible, no matter how real it felt... there's only one possibility. And the sooner he starts treatment, the better.

His phone rings. "Hello?"

"Hey Spence. I wanted to check in with you, see how you were feeling."

He smiles slightly at hearing JJ's voice. "I'm just a little run down. I asked Hotch for the day off, so I'm going to just take it easy today, do some reading, maybe go to the park to play chess. And there's actually a new documentary out on forensic testing that I might watch."

JJ laughs lightly. "Well, I'm glad you have some things planned. God knows you need a break. Do you know if you'll come in tomorrow?"

Spence frowns. "I'm not sure yet. I'm gonna see how today goes, but most likely I'll be in tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll pick up coffee for you," JJ says.

"You're a lifesaver. Thanks JJ."

"Course Spence. Call me if you want to meet up later. Will's home tonight, so I can sneak out again if you want to get coffee," she offers. She's always so generous. Spencer smiles again.

"I think I'm gonna stay in tonight, but thanks JJ. I'll see you tomorrow," he says.

"Enjoy your day off. I'll see you tomorrow." JJ hangs up.

Reid runs his hand through his hair and stands up. There's only so many hours in the day. He should start looking for a doctor sooner rather than later.

Two hours later, Reid's showered and dressed, and he has an appointment in a week with a psychiatrist who will evaluate him and possibly recommend him for a MRI or CAT scan to rule out the possibility of a brain tumor causing the hallucination.

There's only one real possibility though.

His apartment feels too small, too quiet. Reid grabs his jacket and bag and heads out the door towards the library. It's only a short walk away, and it's a nice day out. Bright and clear. It'll be good to walk.

He listens to a podcast on true crime as he walks. It's a bit more crowded than he'd like, most people opting to be out for lunch because it's such a nice day. It was a brutal winter. All the facts are there, and yet people refuse to believe that climate change is happening.

Reid takes off his headphones and stuffs them in his pocket as he enters the library. There's something so comforting about the smell of books. He waves at the librarians at the desk as he walks in and heads towards the shelves to find something to read.

There's a few tables in the library for people to work at. There's two men at one of them, crouched over a bunch of files. Reid stops in his tracks, staring at them.

Not here, not now.

Dean Winchester looks up and meets his eyes, cursing silently to himself.

Reid turns around, running out the door. His heart is pounding. Two hallucinations. Of the same people. That's not good. That's not good at all.

He tries to catch his breathe. He stops running, squinting his eyes shut as he leans against his knees. His vision blurs slightly. The ground beneath him tilts.

"Hey, kid, wake up." Someone shakes his shoulder.

"Fuck off, Morgan," Reid mutters.

"Not Morgan," the person says. "Come on kid, open your eyes. You okay?"

Reid presses his hand against his head, squinting his eyes open. He stares into the eyes of Dean Winchester, and he freezes.

"You're okay, kid," Dean says patting Reid's shoulder. "Come on, sit up." Dean pushes Reid off the ground.

People walk past, staring down at Reid. Sam is standing near-by, and he assures the passer-bys, "He's fine. Low blood sugar."

"Alright, why don't we go get you some water?" Dean says helping Reid up.

"What's your name?" Reid whispers. Because if this man isn't who he thinks he is... if he can prove he's not seeing what he thinks he is... would that even help?

"Dean. This is my brother Sammy." Sam nods at Reid. "There's a coffee shop near here. Let's get you there and get you some water and food."

Reid stares at the two of them. His arm is over Dean's shoulder. Dean Winchester. But it can't be. He' s not seeing right.

"Do you mind... if I take a photo of you? I'll delete it right away, I promise... I just..." Reid's voice lowers. "I need to know if this is real."

Dean raises his eyebrow at Reid, like he thinks Reid is crazy. "Uh, sure? If you think that'll help."

Reid removes his arm from Dean's shoulder and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and opens the camera, taking a picture of Dean. If he is hallucinating, the picture won't look the same. It'll help break the hallucination.

He looks at the picture. It's the same. He closes the photo and reopens it. It doesn't change. "Are you alright?" Dean asks.

"I think I may be going crazy," Reid says.

Dean snorts and says, "Well, with what you saw last night, I can't blame you."

"Do you have somewhere private we can talk?" Sam asks.

Reid nods slightly. "I have an apartment near-by." He's about to take either two random people or two extremely wanted killers back to his apartment. What is he doing?

They walk on either side of him, but Reid knows if he tried to run away or break off, they'd let him. They're not trying to subdue him. That's not why the chased him from the library. They actually want to explain. And make sure he's okay, if he's reading Dean's facial expressions correctly.

He leads them into his building and up the stairs. Reid's hand shakes as they reach his apartment. Why is he trusting them? He's really lost it now. He puts the keys in the lock, and opens the door, letting them enter ahead of him.

Reid closes the door and locks it behind him. Dean picks a book up from the coffee table, snorting at it. "Don't you get enough of serial killers at your day job?" He holds up Rossi's book to show Sam and Reid.

"That's actually one of my teammates books, David Rossi," Spencer explains. "I reread it from time to time." He grips the strap on his handbag. "Can I, uh, can I get you anything?"

Dean tosses the book back down. "Whiskey or beer if you have it," he says putting his feet on the coffee table. Spencer stares at him. "What, you don't have alcohol?"

"I don't drink often. It wouldn't make sense for me to buy it except when I'm out with friends," Spencer says. He takes off his jacket and bag, placing them in his closet. "Also, can you take your feet off my furniture?"

Dean rolls his eyes and puts his feet on the floor. Spencer turns to look at Sam, who's examining Spencer's bookshelf with wide eyes. Real or not, this isn't what he expected when he ran into two criminals he saw commit a crime. Commit a murder. Possibly? He's still not sure what happened. "What happened last night?" Reid asks sitting down in the armchair across from Dean.

"Well, kid, you're with the FBI?" Reid nods. "Well, you ever hear of the Winchesters?"

"I know who you are. I recognized you both last night," Reid explains. "Based on what I've read, you two are vigilantes, possibly with the shared delusion that you're hunting supernatural creatures." _Delusion_. Is this all a delusion?

Dean raises an eyebrow and nods. "Well, you know what you saw last night. Would you say that was a delusion?"

"Jury's still out on that one," Spencer says. He looks down at his hands. They're still shaking.

Sam sits down on the couch with Dean and leans forward onto his knees, watching Reid closely. "You don't believe what you saw last night," Sam says softly.

Reid laughs and says, "I don't believe what I'm seeing right now. It feels real and I think it's real, but that's how it starts, right? Not knowing that something isn't real. And I've already formed a delusion around you two, the Winchesters, and it's possible I'm either alone in my apartment or sitting here with two strangers who have no idea what's happening, and I don't know how to know what's real and I can't even see a doctor until-"

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean shakes his head. "Slow down kid. You're going too fast for me."

Sam looks at Reid, his expression concerned. Reid's heart is pounding. His hands are sweating. He stares back at Sam. "Is there someone you can call? That could prove to you this is real?"

Dean smacks Sam on the knee. "Are you crazy? We don't need anyone else knowing we're here, not when there's still a nest of vamps we have to hunt down!"

Sam glares at Dean but says to Reid, "Is there someone that will keep this quiet? Someone you trust?"

Reid stares back. He can't get his team involved if this is real. And how much of it even is real? If any of it? He leans forward, grabbing his head.

"Spencer, you need to breathe," Sam says softly. Reid takes in a deep breath, his body shaking. "Talk us through what you're thinking."

"Well, all of my friends are in the FBI. If I call one over and this is real, I put them in a bad spot. Because if you two are real, I still don't know if the supernatural is real or if you just murdered an innocent civilian, and I don't know how you could prove that," Reid says, his voice quiet.

Dean snorts and says, "Unfortunately we already burned the body, so that's out. What if we find something else, that can prove it?"

"If I say yes, and what I saw last night wasn't real, then I'm an accessory to either a kidnapping or a murder," Reid says. He stares at them. "There's really no clear solution."

"Is there someone on your team that you trust would help you and also not try to arrest us?" Dean asks rubbing his forehead. "And if not, what's to stop us from just walking out of here?"

"The fact that I'm a federal agent, and I still have a photo of you. And if you are real, that's enough proof for me to go to my boss," Reid says. He leans back in the chair and takes a deep breath. "But there is someone... I can promise she won't try to arrest you."

Dean crosses his arms and snorts. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because she's not an agent. She's our technical analyst."


	5. Trapped at Home

It's a few hours before Garcia gets off from work. A few hours where Reid has to sit with two wanted men, two random people, or alone. He's still trying to figure out which it is.

"Look, kid, she's not gonna get here for a few hours," Dean says when Reid hangs up the phone. "We have a case we're working. Any way we can come back later?"

Reid rubs his head and sighs. "I'm a federal agent. On the off chance you two are really the Winchesters, I can't let you leave."

Dean rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "And how do you plan on keeping us here?"

"Dean," Sam whispers nudging his brother. "He's a federal agent."

"He's a kid," Dean argues gesturing to Spencer. "You really think he can take us?"

Sam sighs before explaining, "He has a picture of you on his phone still. And even if he didn't, all it would take is one phone call, and we have federal agents after us again. Do you really want to deal with that?"

Dean grunts in response and examines Spencer. "So, you really won't let us out of here? Even if you come with us?" Spencer ignores Dean, picking up a book instead. "Come on kid."

"Look." Spencer slams the book shut and sits forward, glaring at Dean. "Right now, I'm not even sure if you're real, so excuse me if I'm not being the most accommodating, especially because if you are real, you are wanted serial killers with a longer list of charges than any one should be able to get away with." Dean rolls his eyes again. "Continue working your case from here if you really need. I have a computer you can use, I can give you information, but until Penelope gets here, no one's leaving."

"Least you could do is get us a beer," Dean grumbles.

Sam shakes his head. "Ignore him. You said you have a computer? I left my laptop back at the hotel." Reid nods and leads Sam to his computer, staring at the man as he settles into the chair.

"What are you researching?" Reid asks, looking over Sam's shoulder as he starts searching through news reports.

"Any unusual deaths in the area that could be because of vampires," Sam answers, his voice casual. Like this isn't anything different for him, which it probably isn't. "The man you ran into last night was part of a nest of vampires we're hunting."

Reid pulls a chair up and settles next to Sam. "There haven't been more reports than usual of deaths or disappearances in the area," he says. "How do you know there's a nest of vampires?" _You don't know if this is real, and even if it is, you don't know what they're really hunting_.

"We got a tip from someone in the area," Sam explains. "Vampires usually take a few people hostage, to keep a supply." Reid winces, his mouth dry. "I'm assuming that this nest targets high risk people who wouldn't be noticed if they went missing."

"People like prostitutes, the homeless population?" Reid asks. This part is familiar.

Sam nods. "Exactly. Vampires don't usually dispose of bodies unless someone's killed on accident. They try to keep people as long as they can, some even keep them well fed and well cared for. We came across a nest once where the people and vampires had kind of reached an agreement?" Sam sounds confused when he says it, like he doesn't understand the agreement. Reid wonders what mythology these delusions are based on. If they are Sam's delusions and not his. Or if they are delusions at all.

Reid clears his throat and asks, "Now when you say vampires?"

"Need blood to survive. Turned by the blood of other vampires. Dead man's blood acts as poison to them. Killed by beheading," Spencer explains. "More sensitive to sunlight, but it won't kill them. They're stronger and faster, and they have better hearing and sense of smell and they see better in the dark." Reid nods.

They sit in silence for a while, Reid reading over Sam's shoulder, looking for things that stand out to him. Upon Dean's insistence, he orders pizza for them to eat.

Eating at his table with two hallucinations or hunters or vigilantes or delusional killers is a strange experience. Sam's polite, eating quietly and neatly. Dean doesn't even use a plate, just inhales the pizza like he hasn't eaten in days.

Sam helps Reid wrap up the leftovers as Dean washes the dishes. It's too normal. Too calm.

There's a knock at the door. Reid's face flushes, his heart pounding. He leaves the kitchen, trusting the brothers to finish cleaning up and stay out of the way.

He opens the door, trying to smile at Garcia. "Penelope, thanks for coming over."

She smiles back, hurrying in the door and putting her bright orange coat in his closet. "Course Reid! Is everything okay?" Spencer leads her to the couch, sitting down next to her. He takes a deep breath. "Do you have people over?"

"I think so?" he says softly. "Um, last night, when I left the bar?" Garcia nods, taking his hand and squeezing it. "I, uh, I stopped at the park. And um, I was attacked by this man..."

Garcia gasps, holding onto his hand tighter. "Are you alright? Why didn't you tell us? Is that why you took off today? Did he hurt you?"

Reid shakes his head. His heart is pounding so hard it hurts. "Um, well, first of all, he's dead now. Um, he got beheaded?" Garcia's mouth drops open. "But, uh, the reason I didn't say anything, is... Garcia, his teeth... he had too many and they were sharp... and I didn't know if it was real. And then, you remember the Winchesters?"

Penelope blinks her eyes. "You mean the delusional brothers from Kansas who murder people and desecrate graves and died years ago?"

Reid nods. He swallows. "Yea... I think they're in my kitchen."


	6. Confirmation of the Truth

"What do you mean they're in your kitchen?" Penelope whispers. She looks towards his kitchen, wincing slightly. "Reid, what's going on?"

"I... I didn't know if they were real or what I saw last night was real, and I just... I need to know if it's real," Reid says, his voice breaking. He wipes at his eyes, sniffling.

Garcia wraps him in a hug and rubs his back. "Oh honey."

"I just... I need to know what's real, Penelope," Reid says. "I know I shouldn't have involved you in this, not without the rest of the team, and I know if this is real, if _they're_ real... then this is technically illegal, and I could be harboring fugitives, and even if they are real, then I have to figure out if that _thing_ I saw was real, and if it was, then they're not delusional killers, they're actually hunters, and if it's not, then I'm hallucinating and delusional, and I'm not fit to be on the team anymore."

"Spencer, honey, slow down, take a deep breath," Penelope says. She pulls back, keeping her hands firmly on his shoulders. "Breath in with me, okay?" Reid breaths with her, the tension in his chest releasing slightly as he does. "One step at a time. Let's start with me meeting them, okay?"

Reid nods. "They're in the kitchen." He leads Penelope to the kitchen, and she stops in the doorway, staring at the two brothers.

Dean looks Penelope up and down and winks. "Oh my god." Garcia pulls Spencer away from the kitchen. "You are not hallucinating. Those really are the Winchester brothers. Oh my god, what do we _do_?"

"I don't know! That's why I called you!" Spencer whispers.

Penelope shakes her head. Dean comes into the hallway and leans against the wall. "So, you know we're real. Can we go now?"

"Absolutely not! You're wanted criminals! I saw you kill someone last night," Reid says. He rubs his head.

Sam stands in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He slouches into himself, like he's trying to make himself less intimidating. "You said you needed proof that the supernatural was real? That you need to make sure what we're doing isn't illegal?"

"Technically, even if you're killing vampires, that's still illegal," Spencer says.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Sam, we're wasting our time. I say we call Bobby, have him find someone else to deal with this and skip town."

"Oh honey, if you think I won't be able to track you down, you're very wrong," Garcia says. Her voice is higher than usual. Reid reaches over and squeezes her shoulder quickly.

"We can prove the supernatural is real," Sam says, the words rushing out of his mouth. "Without doing anything illegal."

Reid snorts and crosses his arms. "How can you guarantee that? And how can you guarantee that we won't get hurt?"

"Relax kid. We're not gonna hurt you. Think you'd know that after spending all day with us," Dean says snorting.

"Not you, whatever you're hunting. If you are hunting vampires, how can you guarantee our safety?" Reid asks. Dean looks down at the floor. Guilt. "You can't, can you? Garcia, call Hotch."

"What the hell kid?" Dean snaps. He pushes away from the wall, glaring at Reid. "We had a deal." Reid steps forward, staring down at Dean.

"Hold on," Sam says, nudging between them and pushing Dean back. "What if we can prove it another way?"

Garcia reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She glances at Reid. "How?" Spencer says. His voice is hard.

"Castiel, we could call him, ask him to drop by," Sam says to Dean.

Dean waves his hand. "He hasn't been answering."

"He'll answer if it means keeping us out of jail," Sam whispers urgently. "Come on, just give it a try."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine." He walks out of the hallway into the living room. "Hey Can? Uh, we're kind of in a bad spot-"

Garcia grabs onto Reid. "Spencer, he's talking to the air."

"No, I think... I think he's praying?" Reid says softly. He walks towards his bedroom, ushering Garcia with him. Spencer goes to his dresser and pulls his gun out of the drawer, holstering it to his belt. Garcia stares at him, her eyes wide and her face pale. "They haven't shown any violent tendencies, but just in case," he assures her. Penelope nods, and grabs his arm as he leads her back into the living room.

Dean's circling around, still talking out loud. Sam's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Come on Cas! All we need is two minutes, alright?"

There's a soft sound, almost like a bird's wings. Penelope screams burying her face in Spencer's shoulder as a man materializes in his living room. Reid draws his gun, pointing it at the man.

The man stares at him, his eyebrows lowered. "Dean, who are these people?"

"This is Dr. Spencer Reid, a federal agent, and his friend- I'm sorry, I don't think he introduced us?" Dean says looking at Penelope.

She looks up from Spencer's shoulder. Her whole body is shaking as she squeaks out, "Penelope."

The man, who must be Castiel, nods in greeting. His movements are stiff, and his expression doesn't change. "Why did you call me here?"

"Because we had to prove to Spencer here that the supernatural was real before he reported us to his boss," Dean says. "Spencer, Penelope, I'd like you to meet our friend."

Cas stares at them. "I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord."

Spencer's knees buckle, Penelope catching him and setting him on the ground. He buries his head between his knees, pressing against his eyes. _Angels are real. Angels are real. Raphael... Raphael._

"Spencer?" Penelop squeezes his shoulder. "Stay with me, okay honey? You're safe. You're in your apartment. It's alright."

"He is not hurt. Why did he fall?" Castiel says. His voice is even. His movements are mechanical. Like Raphael.

"He's having a panic attack," Sam says softly. He moves closer to Reid, placing his hand on Spencer's knee. "Do you know what triggered it?"

Garcia wipes at her eyes quickly, and her voice shakes as she explains, "Spencer was kidnapped on a case a few years back. The unsub had multiple personalities, and one of them was the angel Raphael."

"No, that's impossible," Sam says. "Spencer, Raphael's been dead for way longer than a few years. Whoever you kidnapped you, it wasn't a real angel."

 _Wasn't a real angel._ Reid takes a deep breath, relaxing his body. He lifts his head and looks back at Garcia. "Are you okay?" he asks.

She laughs and shakes her head. "You should be worried about yourself!"

Spencer chuckles. "Well, this is a lot." Penelope stares at Cas.

"You're telling me," she agrees.

Castiel looks at Dean and says, "If that's all, I have other business to attend to." And _disappears_ from Reid's living room.

"So, you saw all that too?" Reid asks Garcia. She nods. "Alright..." He clears his throat. "It's real."

Dean claps his hands and stands up. "Great! Well, it was great meeting you guys and all, but it's getting dark out and we have a nest of vamps to find."

Spencer stares at them. He looks at Penelope. "Have you tried a geographical profile?"

"A what now?" Dean asks staring at him.

"A geographical profile. By marking on a map where people have been taken, where you've seen any vampires so far, and where any bodies you've found have been, you can create a geographical profile that will help you find the location of the nest," Spencer explains.

"And have you looked through building permits for any properties that have passed through multiple generations of the same family? Or any abandoned buildings they might be using as a base?" Garcia adds.

Sam smiles at Dean, raising his eyebrows. Dean shakes his head. "No way in hell."

"Come on Dean, just for one case. These guys are professionals," Sam pleads. "Think of the people we could save with their help."

 _Help._ They were really offering help to the Winchester brothers. Dean examines the two of them and throws up his hands in defeat. "Fine! One case, and then we're getting the hell out of here."


	7. Profiling the Supernatural

"So, you just have this giant map of your neighborhood?" Dean asks as Spencer lays out a map on the table.

"Trust me, sweetie, that's not the weirdest thing this man has," Penelope says swiveling in the desk chair. "You should see his collection of books on serial killers. It's creepy as hell."

"They're not books on serial killers, per say," Reid explains. "They're research about criminal behavior and what conditions can create a serial killer and books documenting different serial killers that help to understand-"

"Understand?" Dean snorts. "You really understand what those guys think?"

"It's my job to," Spencer says shrugging. "Don't you know have to know what you're hunting and what it's behaviors are?"

Dean shrugs. "Touche."

"So, the geographic profile?" Sam asks examining the map.

"Yes, so have you come across any vampires besides the one last night?" Spencer asks. He sticks a marker on the park near his house.

Sam nods and says, "We came across one here." Sam puts a marker on a back alley about a mile and half southeast from the park and then a second to another park two miles south and half a mile west of the park. "And the tip came from someone in this area."

"Alright," Spencer says. "It's most likely that they're located somewhere between these three points." He draws a circle surrounding the points.

Garcia examines the map before swiveling back to the computer. "Looking up properties in that area. Searching specifically for abandoned properties or properties passed down through generations... this might take a second. This isn't exactly my usual set up," Garcia says as she types furiously. "Narrowing it down... alright! I have a few possibilities."

"Lay them on me," Dean says leaning over her shoulder.

Penelope glares at him and moves away slightly. "There's a house on Belvedere Avenue that's been in the same family for two generations... an abandoned warehouse on Hyde Street... ooh, and uber creepy, there's a hospice that shut down a few years back that's in that area."

"They wouldn't go to a hospice, too many dead people," Dean says. "We'll check out the other two locations." He claps Reid on the shoulder. "Thanks for your help. Pretty impressive work. Especially you sweetheart." He winks at Garcia, who blushes in response despite continuing to glare at him.

Sam stands up. "Really, you guys helped save us a lot of time. Thank you." He smiles at Garcia and Reid, his face softer than Dean's. "Hope we don't run into you guys again, but... it was nice meeting you."

"Do you really think I'm going to let you guys go alone?" Reid asks. Dean sighs. "No, really. You guys need someone to help cover your tracks. If you go in there and murder a bunch of... of vampires, it's going to draw attention."

"He's right Dean," Sam agrees.

Dean throws his hands up. "What are we supposed to do Sammy? That's our job! We _hunt_ things. We go in there, gank the vamps, and get the people out of there."

"And how do you plan to hide the evidence? Someone will eventually find the bodies," Reid argues.

"We burn them then," Dean says exasperated.

"And what about the bones? Unless you're planning on making a fire that's over 1400 degrees Fahrenheit?" Reid grabs his keys from the counter and puts them in his pocket. Dean stares at him dumbfounded. "Plus, you two are still wanted criminals, and on the off chance this isn't real, I need to be there."

Dean practically yells, "We showed you a frikkin' angel! What else do you need?"

Reid stares at him. "I need to see that what you're doing is actually saving people."

Garcia's face pales as she watches Spencer. "Spencer... you can't actually think it's a good idea."

"Penelope, I deal with serial killers as part of my day job," Spencer says. He smiles slightly. "I don't think this is the most dangerous thing I'll do."

Dean turns to Sam and asks, "You think this is a good idea?"

Sam examines Spencer and nods. "I really think it's the only course of action, Dean."

"Great, just great," Dean mumbles. "Alright, kid, you gotta cover your own ass, and that gun is gonna be useless. We already got dead man's blood, and no, we're not gonna talk about that anymore." Spencer closes his mouth. "We'll give you a machete, and we'll head out in the morning, take them by surprise, alright?"

"Great, I have a spare bedroom, and one of you can take the couch," Reid says as he starts removing the markers from the map and placing it back in its frame.

Dean stares at Reid, his mouth opening and closing a few times before finally saying, "Really?! We have to spend the night here?"

"You can have the bed if it makes you feel better," Sam says moving to the couch. "It's a lot better than the motel."

"Sammy, are you even hearing yourself?" Dean says. "We're basically being held here! How do we know that he doesn't just call his boss and tell him that he's got two wanted criminals in his custody, so he can get himself a nice cushy bonus?"

"Because I don't do my job for the money," Reid says. He grabs some extra blankets from the closet and tosses them to Sam. "At this point, if you walk out, I won't try to stop you or find you. But it won't be my fault if you leave a bunch of evidence right in the backyard of the FBI."

Dean shakes his head again, grumbling as he sits down next to Sam. "Wouldn't be so bad if I could just get a frikkin beer."

"Like I said, I'm not stopping you," Reid repeats. He grabs a book from the shelf and sits in the arm chair. "Penelope, do you want me to call a ride for you or did you drive here?"

"I drove myself," Garcia says. She stands near the table, not moving. "Is it alright... I just can't imagine going home right now, not with knowing there's angels and vampires and god knows what else out there."

Spencer places the book down and walks to Garcia. "You can stay here tonight if you want."

Penelope smiles. "Yes please." She ruffles his hair.

"It's a real party, isn't it?" Dean says.

Spencer walks back to the chair, Garcia trailing behind him. She sits down on the floor next to him. Sam examines the both of them. "Is there anything you guys want to know? We can tell you how to protect yourselves if that might help you feel better."

Garcia nods vigorously and reaches up, grabbing Reid's hands. "Just... not too many details, okay? I see enough at work, and I do _not_ want any more fuel for my nightmares." Spencer squeezes her hand.

Sam sits on the couch, clasping his hands together. "Well, first thing, rock salt." Spencer nods. "Pour it on your windowsill and door, or in emergencies, make a circle of salt around yourself. It keeps out most things." He pauses for a second, looking at Penelope. She swallows and grips Spencer's hand tighter. "Iron and rock salt are good for defending against ghosts."

"And if you want to get rid of a ghost for good, salt and burn the bones," Dean says.

"That explains the grave desecration," Spencer says. Penelope nods, her face white.

Sam looks at Penelope and asks softly, "Do you want me to stop?"

"Yes, thank you very much. That is enough for me. I don't think I'm ready to hear about anything else," Penelope says. Spencer lets go of her hand and goes to the kitchen, bringing back a cup of water for her. She takes it between both hands and sips it. "Thank you sweetheart."

Spencer sits back down and examines the two brothers. He has so many questions. "Where do you get your information? There's a lot of conflicting information in mythology."

"Well, we sometimes have to research using mythology, which sucks ass because there's so much mixed information and don't even get me started on translations." Dean snorts. "We get our information from other hunters."

"Like your dad." Dean glares at Reid, but nods. "Is there a collection of information?"

"Our friend Bobby has gathered a lot of information," Sam says. "But that's about it. There's some online forums, but most of them aren't too reliable."

Reid leans forward in the chair slightly. "Are there resources you could recommend that would be reliable?"

Same stares at Reid. Dean shakes his head. "Kid, trust me, you don't want to know more."

"That's my decision to make, thank you very much," Reid says. "I want to be able to keep myself and my friends safe. If I don't know about what's out there, how can I do that?"

Dean sighs, rubbing his head. "As long as you promise not to go chasing anything."

Reid snorts. "I think this will be my first and only hunt unless something comes up in a case."

"Fair enough," Dean agrees.

"I can recommend some books and websites for you," Sam says pulling a pen and notepad from his pocket. He scribbles a few things down and hands the list to Spencer. Reid examines it. It's too short a list for his liking. "These are the ones I can think of off the top of my head."

"Thank you." Reid sticks the paper in his pocket. He stares at the two brothers. It's too early to go to bed, but he needs some time to think on his own. "I'm going to bed, but if you need anything, just knock. Penelope?" She nods, standing up. "You can have my bed if you want. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Nonsense!" Penelope shakes her head. "It's your house."

Reid sighs. "I'll sleep on the floor anyway." She rolls her eyes and swats her hand at him. "Come on, I'll change the sheets for you."

"Spencer Reid, you spoil me," Penelope teases as they head down the hall to his room. He shuts the door behind them, locking it just in case. Reid takes a deep breath and smiles at Penelope. "You alright hun?"

"I'm about as alright as I can be given the circumstances." Reid sits at the edge of his bed and runs his hand through his hair. "What about you?"

"Well," she says sitting next to him, "my eyes have been opened to a whole new terrifying world, but that happens every time we work a new case." Garcia laughs, and Spencer chuckles.

"I can't thank you enough for coming over." He looks down at his hands. "I just... I didn't know what was real, and I didn't know what to do. And I know that I've gotten you involved in all this, and I understand if you're upset."

"Honey!" Penelope reaches over and grabs his hands, squeezing them between hers. "I could never be upset with you for calling me when you need help! I'm just glad that they're not actually murders." Spencer laughs, throwing his head back. "And, oh, I know I shouldn't say this, but they are sooo yummy. But don't tell Dean I said that cause he may be extremely hot, but he is _such_ a downer." Reid falls back on the bed laughing. Garcia squeezes his hand one more time and lets go, smiling brightly.

"Garcia, you are ridiculous," Reid says clutching his stomach.

"I know. That's why you love me."

Dean kicks off his shoes and props his feet on the coffee table. Sam shoves his feet off and glares at him. "Fine," Dean concedes rolling his eyes. "This whole thing is crazy man."

Sam snorts. "We got off lucky Dean. And you have to admit, they helped us find two possible locations for the nest faster than we ever could."

"Yea, yea." Dean turns and glances down the hall. "You really think that kid is up to fighting vamps?"

"He's a federal agent who hunts serial killers," Sam says. "I think he'll be fine."

"I'll say it again," Dean says shaking his head. "Monsters I get. People I don't."


	8. Muses over Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firm believer in friends sharing beds and it meaning nothing

Garcia's still asleep when Reid gets up. It took a while for them to get to sleep, and finally, after an hour or so, Garcia insisted that Reid sleep in his own bed. They compromised by sharing it. Reid doesn't like sharing a bed. Sometimes he has to with Morgan on a case, so he's gotten used to it. His bed was big enough that he felt like he had his own space, and knowing Garcia was there if he needed her was nice.

It's hard realizing he can't tell the rest of the team about this. Especially JJ. Maybe one day he will. He's not sure if she'll even believe him.

He walks into his kitchen and starts brewing a cup of coffee. The sun hasn't risen yet. He usually gets to work around seven. He'll call Hotch and let him know he'll be a few hours late because of a headache. He stares out the window. The sky is gray.

"Morning." Spencer jumps, turning around. Sam stands in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. It seems so normal, so casual. It's anything but. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," Spencer says. He opens the cabinet and pulls out some cereal. "Can I, can I get you anything?"

"Just coffee is fine," Sam says. He examines the bowl of fruit on the table. "May I?"

"Help yourself," Reid says. Sam grabs an orange and starts peeling it. Spencer grabs a plate for Sam and a bowl for himself, placing them on the table before grabbing milk and a spoon. Sam smiles at Reid as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. He's not really hungry. In fact, he feels a little nauseous, but he needs to eat something if he's going to be hunting vampires...

Vampires. He's hunting vampires. Reid puts the spoon down and rubs his head. "Are you okay?" Sam asks.

"It's just a lot to take in," Reid says. The coffee maker beeps and Reid gets up. He pours two cups of coffee and hands one to Sam.

"Thank you," Sam says. He takes a sip of the coffee. "It definitely makes the world feel a lot bigger, and scarier."

Reid nods and sips his own coffee. "I just want to know what else is out there. There's so much I don't know about the supernatural."

Sam puts his mug down. He picks out a wedge from the orange and pops it in his mouth, chewing slowly. When he swallows, he takes another sip of his coffee and examines Spencer. "We have some time before we have to head out, and god knows Dean's not gonna be up anytime soon. What do you want to know?"

"What else is out there?" Spencer asks. He leans forward slightly, watching Sam closely as he separates another wedge.

"I'm going to assume you've heard of most of these, so I'll give you a list." Reid nods. "Wendigos, demons, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, djinns, tricksters, ghouls, witches, shapeshifters. Those are the big ones. There's other stuff out there, but those are the big ones."

Reid takes another sip of coffee, focusing on its taste for a second. It's a long list. Too long. "Alright. And salt is the best way to protect ourselves?"

"One of the best ways." Sam reaches into a pocket and pulls out a talisman. "This protects against possession. I can get some for you and Penelope if you'd like." Reid nods. "The odds of most people coming across something supernatural are pretty slim. Someone like you though who is out in the field? It's likely one day you're gonna get case that you can't explain."

"What then?" Spencer asks . He stares down at his coffee. "I mean, I can educate myself, but there's not way the rest of my team will believe me."

"It's a lot to learn," Sam says. He eats another piece of the orange and examines Spencer. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Spencer sighs. "I already know the supernatural exists. It's better for me to know everything I can about it."

"That's a lot to cover over breakfast," Sam says chuckling. Reid smiles slightly. "You just want to learn?"

"What else would I want?" Reid asks. He starts eating his cereal slowly.

"To become a hunter," Sam says shrugging. "It's not a life you really... want to get involved in." Sam hunches forward slightly.

Reid examines him. "If I trusted you guys to take care of the vampires quietly, I wouldn't even come with you. I've seen enough without adding supernatural creatures to the list." Reid snorts, and Sam chuckles. "It's just if I want to stay safe, the best way is to be educated, right?"

Sam nods in agreement. "How often do you get off work?"

"Not often enough," Reid says.

"Well, our friend Bobby has a lot of books on the supernatural. If you ever find yourself in Lawrence County, South Dakota, give him a call." Sam grabs a piece of paper and scribbles two numbers on it: one for Bobby and one for him. "And if you ever come across something in your work, you can call me and Dean. Can't promise we'll get there faster than you, but we can give some advice."

"Thanks Sam." Reid examines the numbers, and then rips up the paper. Sam stares at him, his mouth hanging open. "I figure it's best to not have any trace of your numbers."

"And you'll remember them?" Sam asks.

"I have an Eidetic memory," Reid explains.

"Wow," Sam says softly. The two sit quietly, eating and drinking their coffee. "Are you sure you want to come?"

Reid sighs. "Not really. But I have to. I'm not really great in the field, but it's part of my job, and this is just something I have to do."

"There's no going back," Sam says. "Something like this changes you."

Spencer looks up and smiles at Sam. "I've already seen a vampire be beheaded and questioned my entire reality. I think this will be a little easier." Sam chuckles slightly.

The door in the hall opens and Dean walks into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. "Sun should be up soon," he says. "We should head out now. Sam, you guys go to the house. I'll check out the warehouse. Call me if you find anything. We go in together or not at all."

"Yes sir," Sam says rolling his eyes. Dean hits him in the back of the head and takes his coffee, downing the rest of it. "Hey!"

"Breakfast time is over," Dean says putting the mug in the sink. "We can eat once we gank these vamps." He stops before leaving the kitchen and says, "I'm taking baby."


	9. Showdown at Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates may be longer in between. I will finish this work, and possibly do spin offs with more BAU and Winchester shenanigans.

Reid feels weird taking Penelope's car. She said last night if they needed it, they could use it, and he could pay her back for the Uber to work. But it feels wrong. What if someone sees them and she becomes a suspect?

Before they leave, Spencer leaves a note for Penelope. _Left at 6:02. Will call you when it's over._

"Ready?" Sam asks. Reid nods and follows him out of his apartment, taking care to make sure his front door is locked. The sun's not quite up yet, and the sky's gray. They have approximately twenty four minutes until the sun breaks over the horizon. It'll be about a thirteen minute drive to the house. It's a wealthier area that the house is in. Large enough for at least nine people to live in comfortably, possibly more depending on what vampires need to be comfortable. It has a shed in the back, where there may be possible hostages or victims.

"You said vampires keep people for food?" Reid asks as they leave the building and he hands Sam the keys to Garcia's car. It's small and cute and orange. Just as bright as Garcia. Her seats are covered in fake fur. It's a bit too tickly on Reid's skin. He fidgets in his seat as Sam starts to drive.

Sam nods. "Yea, why?"

"Then this isn't a typical hostage situation," Reid says. "They're worth more alive than dead. If they threaten to kill any of them or try to negotiate, we'll know it's a bluff."

Sam frowns, considering this. "I guess, yea. Especially if they do it with a knife or gun. They wouldn't risk getting dead man's blood on them. Most of their victims die through blood loss, malnutrition, or other health problems."

"What's the plan? Dean said to wait before going in if we find anything. What are we looking for?"

"Any sign of vampires," Sam says.

Reid sighs. "And how will we find that without going in? What will we be able to tell without putting ourselves into a situation where we need to fight?"

"You studied the property, right?" Spencer nods. "Well, there's the shed in the back. My bet is that if this isn't a normal suburban family, there'll be some weird stuff in that shed."

Reid hums lightly. "Well, considering my experience with 'normal suburban families', even if they aren't vampires, there's still 17% chance of them hiding something else."

Sam snorts. "Doesn't it scare you how much you guys see on cases?"

Spencer laughs and says, "I could ask you the same. Except a lot more of our cases are public knowledge."

"And the ones that aren't?" Sam glances at Spencer.

"There's a reason they aren't." Spencer crosses his hands and looks at them, images flying through his head about different cases. The two different anthrax attacks that almost happened. Other terrorist attacks that haven't been prevented. "Sometimes I envy the ignorance of the average person."

"I get that," Sam says softly. "There's so much we've seen, so much we've done that if people knew about, they'd go crazy. And there are things I've done... things I'm not proud of... because of what we do. Because that's the job." Reid watches as Sam taps his fingers rapidly on the steering wheel.

"Well, according to Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill, as long as your actions for the greater good, it doesn't matter you've done as long as it leads to the best possible outcome," Reid says. "And in lines of work like ours, we have to remember that. We're doing what we can to keep others safe."

Sam nods, but his lips are firm and he doesn't stop tapping. Most likely one of the choices he made lead to more harm than good. "Yea," Sam says, his voice harder than its been.

Reid is about to say something, but he can't think of something to say that doesn't feel like he's profiling Sam. It feels wrong to be profiling him at this point, knowing that he's a good guy doing what he can to protect others.

Sam slows the car and parks it a few houses away. It's still early enough that the sky is gray. "We go in quiet," Sam says turning the car off. "We check out the shed, and then we call Dean if we find anything."

"In a place this wealthy, there's a possibility they'll notice any suspicious activity faster than in less wealthy areas," Reid says before Sam has a chance to get out. "We have to be casual. If we act like we're supposed to be here, we'll be less likely to get caught." Sam smiles at Reid and hands him a machete.

It's bigger than Reid anticipated, but it fits into his bag fairly easily. "Might want it easier to reach?" Sam suggests. "Just in case."

"I'll take it out once we're off the street." The two of them leave the car and walk a few houses down before reaching the house they're looking for. Like the other houses, it's in good condition. The lawn is mowed and weeded, but there's no flowers outside, not even shrubs. Possibly a sign of someone avoiding being in the sun.

The shed in the back is more wore down. It's painted white, but it's cracked and the roof has branches and twigs covering it. Reid leans against the door, nods to Sam, and opens it.

Sam runs in, pulling his machete from his jacket. Reid follows suit, examine the two young girls crowded in the corner. They're covered in dirt and bite marks, some of which are bleeding. They have ropes tied around their legs and wrists. Both of them are awake, but one looks like she can't keep her eyes open. Possibly fatigue from lack of sleep but more likely from malnutrition.

Reid kneels near them, speaking softly as he unties the ropes. "My name is-" He cuts himself off. This isn't a regular case. "My name is Matthew. Are you hurt?" One shakes her head. The other stares at him blankly. "We're going to get you out of here. The neighbors next door have a light on in their kitchen, so one of them is already up. Knock on their door and ask for help. If anything goes wrong, start screaming, alright? I can't come with you, but if I hear screaming, I'll come as fast as I can. Do you understand?"

The more lucid girl nods at him, helping her friend out. Sam watches as they stumble out, hurrying out of the backyard to the neighbor's house. "They're clear," Sam says ducking back into the shed and closing the door. "Ambulance will be here soon. How long do you estimate?"

"Seven minutes, maybe less. The problem I'm worried about is the police. They'll ask questions, and if they go in trying to shoot vampires, it won't end well," Reid asks. He turns the machete in his hand. "There's no way for us to get in there, neutralize them, and clean it up before any police come around."

"Can you buy us time?" Sam asks. He pulls out his phone and sends a message, most likely to Dean.

"I may be a federal agent, but I am acting way outside of the law," Reid says frowning at Sam. "The fastest way to do this is poison them. Leave no trace behind of us. Wear gloves and inject them with dead man's blood. Will they be asleep when we enter? If we don't struggle, they'll have less evidence to go off, and blood isn't exactly something that can be found as a reason of death. It's suspicious, but it's cleaner."

"We'd need way more dead man's blood than we have to kill a nest of vampires," Sam says. He peers through the crack in the door. "We can use the dead man's blood to weaken them, but we don't have enough time to get more. We have to behead them."

"I can't go in then," Reid says placing the machete back in his bag. "I cannot afford to get a criminal record. And besides, I'm better as a profile than a fighter. I'm an awful shot, I'm not fast, and I'm definitely not strong enough to _behead_ someone."

Sam stares at Reid and shakes his head. "Spence, come on. There's not time to wait for Dean. If we don't do anything, more people will get hurt."

"What about Castiel?" Spencer shouts throwing out his arms. "He's a freaking _angel_. Can't he do something?"

"He doesn't have _time_. He has to deal with other shit happening in heaven that has to do with-" Sam cuts off suddenly. He shakes his head and pulls out his machete from his jacket. His hand is shaking. "What we're doing is so insignificant to Cas, to any other angel, that they won't help."

Reid stares at Sam. He pulls the machete out of his bag and drops it at Sam's feet. "You know, I thought I could do this, but I'm just a profiler. I can buy you time, if that's what you need. But I can't go in there and kill people."

Sam huffs and grips his machete tighter. "You know, Dean was right. We should've known better than to ask a fed for help."


	10. Seven Minutes

Sam watches as Spencer leaves the shed. He can't blame him. But he shouldn't have sent those girls out. They should have stayed in the shed and waited for Dean. And Spencer's only reason not to give them up is because he'd be an accomplice.

He can only hope Spencer is buying them time somehow. He has to trust that. And if not, him and Dean skip town. It's not like they haven't left a trail before... it's just different when it's in the backyard of the FBI.

Sam slips into the house quietly, keeping his machete in hand, the dead man's blood dripping from it. He probably looks like a serial killer, especially to Spencer. If Spencer had seen him hunting... what would he think of Sam?

Would he think he's a monster? Inhuman? Messed up like the people he profiles? Blood thirsty like the monsters Sam hunts?

It doesn't matter. He has a job to do.

He pulls out his phone. "Hey Dean."

Reid watches the two girls bang on the neighbors door. Without the machete, he can look casual walking down the street. He can get in Garcia's car and drive away without anyone knowing. Instead when he's sure no one's watching or seen him, he locks the car with the fob, making sure it honks when he does so. To make it seem like he's just pulled over. To avoid suspicion.

He pulls out his phone, hurrying to the two girls as he calls his boss.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, I was driving to get coffee before work, and on the way, I passed these two girls who look like they've been attacked. I'm going to approach them and try to get more information. They seem really overwhelmed, and I was hoping you could pull in a favor with the local PD and ask them to only send a few guys. I just... I'm scared of spooking them, Hotch. What if... there are others?" Reid's voice is soft, breathy. It's easy to lie over the phone. Easier than in person.

"I'll do my best Reid. Have you called for an ambulance yet?"

"I'm about to when I hang up. I wanted to call you first. If I can get a head start on victimology, as a bystander, maybe it'll help local PD. It's just... Hotch, they look..."

"Would you like one of the team to meet you there? It's not technically in our jurisdiction, but I'm sure I can pull some strings."

"I think I'm okay," Reid's voice shakes. He hopes it conveys uncertainty. "It'll probably be better if less people are here."

Hotch is silent for a second. "Reid, I have to ask. Are you in any sort of danger?"

"No, I'm fine," Reid says. "I just... want to help."

"Alright." Hotch's voice is soft. Concerned. Reid seems to have convinced him. Hopefully. It'll take the team longer to get here than local PD anyway. "Call if you need anything else."

"I will." Reid hangs up.

The family still hasn't opened the door, most likely out of fear. Reid hurries towards the two girls. One is supporting the other. They're both so pale, eyes bloodshot. The lucid one sees him and starts stumbling towards him, still holding onto the other.

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid," he says as he approaches them. The lucid one nods, her face set. She seems to understand. He's no longer Matthew. He is Dr. Spencer Reid. "What happened? You don't know where you came from?"

The less lucid one starts to gesture to the house next door, but her friend takes her hand. "No, we just started running," she says meeting Reid's eyes. "We're not sure."

He should have gone with them in the first place. Or stayed in the shed and sent them out after Sam dealt with the vampires. But this seemed safest at the time. Get the victims out and to safety. It's what he was taught. He's never had to cover his tracks like this.

Spencer gestures to the front steps of the house. "Sit down, I'm going to call an ambulance." The girl lowers her friend onto the ground and sits next to her. As he pulls his phone back out, he asks, "What are your names?"

"Maddie." The lucid girl says. "And this is Sara." Sara's head is leaning on Maddie's shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Keep her awake," Reid says just before a dispatcher answers and he explains the situation. They offer to stay on the line with him to help, but he's helped victims in worse shape. Instead he knocks on the front door. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid," he shouts. "I have two girls out here who appear to be malnourished and dehydrated. An ambulance is on the way, but if you could please bring out some water to help, it would help them."

The front door opens slightly, and a woman's face peeks out. "Credentials?" she asks. Reid pulls out his badge and shows it to her. She nods and closes the door.

Reid sits next to Sara, taking her pulse silently. "Will she be okay?" Maddie asks quietly. Spencer nods, not stopping to answer as he keeps counting.

He looks at the house across the street. Hopefully Sam is okay because it feels too quiet, too peaceful.

It's almost like the end of a regular case, if he forgets the vampires. He pulls out his phone and sends a message.

Sam has no idea how many vamps live in this nest, and it'll be a bit before Dean gets here. He's not even sure if it's a good idea for Dean to meet him here, not if there will be police officers.

His phone buzzes softly in his pocket. He freezes, but nothing in the house stirs. It creaks too much to move fast, but at least that means he'll hear if someone's coming.

Sam pulls out his phone slowly. _Hopefully bought some time. Going with the story the girls don't know where they came from. Believable story when you factor in adrenaline and their malnourished state. Police and ambulance should be here soon. If you can, wait._

 _Wait._ Sam rolls his eyes and puts his phone away, making sure to silence it. What if the sirens wake up the vampires? What if they smell him and realize he's here?

There's too much that can go wrong. He can't wait for Spencer or Dean. It'll take too long.

He walks through the house silently. Odds are they're upstairs, in the bedrooms. The stairs are old and wooden, and they'll definitely creak. Carefully, he tests each step and makes his way upstairs as quietly as he can.

There's a few doors upstairs. Once he opens one, things could go crazy. Things could get bad.

This is what he does though. Hunting monsters, saving people. It doesn't matter what it takes.

Sam opens the first door on his right slowly. There's two beds, each with a vampire. If he wants to take them both down, he'll have to be fast. And quiet. He doesn't want to risk being cornered.

Carefully he approaches the first vampire. It doesn't stir as he holds the machete over it's throat and shoves it through quickly. It's eyes snap open, but it's dead before it can scream. He turns around. The other one's eyes are opening slowly. Quickly, Sam brings the machete down, separating its head from its body. He moves too fast, forgetting stealth, and the head rolls towards the edge of the bed. He pushes it back with the tip of the machete, being careful not to get any blood on him.

Okay, that's two. There's three more doors. He leaves the room, keeping the door open as he peeks into the next room. It's a bathroom, almost normal except for the reddish stains on the sinks and the walls of the shower. Sam creeps down the hall opening the next door.

Inside is a king bed with three vampires nestled together. Too many. More risky. But he has a job. He's already here, and if the police do end up here, at least he'll have the job finished. No one else will be hurt. And Spencer will never have to know how much strength it takes to behead someone.

He walks towards the bed, examining the vampires. They're all close together. His best bet is to get them with the Dead Man's blood first, then behead them. It'll attract more attention, but it'll be safer. There's one room left. Probably only two more vamps. This will be safer.

Sam drags the machetes across their foreheads with enough pressure for the Dead Man's blood to enter their system. They stir, struggling, fighting to grab him. He beheads the first as it reaches for him, it's head thumping against the floor. The other two groan and whine, but he beheads them both before they have a chance to call out.

He's already been noisy. He has to move quick now. He hurries to the doorway, but blocking his way is a vampire. Sam grabs his machete, about to strike it when the vamp stabs him in the shoulder with a needle. He cried out, collapsing against the wall as his vision swims.

It leans in close and hisses in his ear, "You cannot take my family from me."


	11. Taken

It's a routine Reid's used. Waiting with victims, getting information, talking to the police. He offers to help with the case, gives what little profile he can without giving anything away, and he gives his card to one of the officers and to Maddie. "Let me know how Sara is," he says before she gets into the ambulance. She nods, settling in a seat next to the gurney Sara's strapped into, an IV already attached to her arm.

Neighbors have gathered outside, watching the police and ambulance, trying to figure out what's going on, and as expected, when they leave, the neighbors linger outside, asking each other about the case. Except for one. A man who's wearing a coat, gloves, and a hat that covers his face when he leans forward- that keeps the sun off his face. That man turns and walks into the house Sam should still be in...

There's too many people around. He can't just walk to a house and start questioning someone, especially if it's a vampire. And especially if it's one who realizes Spencer played a part in helping free his prisoners.

But Sam's in there. And if there's a vampire alive...

A black impala pulls up in front of Spencer, and Dean gets out, walking right up to Spencer. He's a bit shorter than Spencer, so it's almost comical to Spencer when Dean has to glare up at him. "What the hell are you playing at?"

"My job," Reid says. There's too many people out- too many nosy people. He walks across the street back to Penelope's car where less people are gathered. Dean follows with a grumble.

"Sammy said you bailed on him," Dean says crossing his arms.

"I had to cover for him," Spencer explains. "I decided the best possible course of action would be preventing the local police from determining where the victims where kept. If they can't figure that out, they won't get involved with a nest of a vampires, and it gives more time to dispose of the bodies without drawing attention, especially to the supernatural."

For a brief second, Dean almost looks impressed. "Alright, so then where the hell is Sammy? You let him go in alone?"

"Once I knew what the situation was and had it under control, I told him to wait," Reid says. "And whether or not he listened to me..." Reid shrugs.

Dean huffs and shakes his head at the sky. "Son of a bitch... have you heard from him?"

Spencer swallows. Dean will not take this well. "He hasn't answered, and one of the vampires came out of the house during the investigation."

"So at least one of the vamps is alive," Dean grumbles. He reaches into his jacket, where Reid assumes there's a machete, and looks towards the old house. "I say we go in."

"With this amount of witnesses?" Reid says. "Besides, we've disturbed their home. The chances of them staying are minimal. My guess is they'll relocate once possible."

"All the more reason to gank them now!" Dean hisses back.

Spencer takes a deep breath and looks Dean in the eye. "There's already been a crime reported-"

"Because you reported it!" Dean almost yells. He quiets his voice and steps closer, pointing his finger into Spencer's chest. "So help me God, you are gonna help me get my brother back and on the off chance something _did_ happen to him... well, swear to God I will end you."

"We don't even know if anything's happened," Spencer says softly. He pulls out his phone and sends another message to Sam. _Please report what's happening._ Dean looks down at the phone, grumbling again before he turns and kicks at the sidewalk. Childlike behavior. Most likely due to a lack of emotional support from parents and proper guidance from other adult figures. Possibly due to having to grow up too fast, not fully abandoning some of his behavior due to the lack of a shift between childhood and becoming an adult.

Spencer's phone rings after a minute. "Sam, hey, is everything okay?" Dean perks up and turns to face Spencer again.

"Everything is not okay." It's a woman's voice. Soft, angry. "You come into our home, take what's ours, and kill most of my family?"

Spencer's brain sorts through negotiating a hostage situation. That's what this is, right? Some fucked up version of a hostage situation. Rossi would be better at this. This isn't what Spencer's good at. Not when he doesn't have a profile. Not when this goes against how a case is normally handled. Not when someone he's working with has killed the unsub's family and become a hostage. It's messy, too messy to handle neatly anymore.

Dean tries to grab at the phone, but Reid turns away. "I am sorry about your family. I hope you realize I didn't intend for any of this to happen."

The woman snorts. "I saw your message to him."

"Then you know I told him to wait," Reid says back. "I wanted to get those two girls to safety when I found them. He wanted to make sure no one else was taken."

"They were _ours_ to have." The woman seems to have no interest in the welfare of the girls, no care for them. She sees them as objects. "We had to replace them."

"And I can help with that." Reid slaps away Dean's hand, holding the phone a little higher. "I can help find replacements. If you let me talk to him, show me he's okay, we can work something out."

"There's nothing _to_ work out. We have what we want. We'll rebuild our family, and he will suffer for what he did. And of course you're welcome to try to save him, I know how stubborn hunters can be... but I also know you're not a hunter." Reid's silent for a second. "You don't have the resolve of one, the anger. We're just trying to survive, same as you. Just leave us be, and we won't have to make any more out of this." She hangs up before Reid can say anything else.

Dean glares at Reid. "And what the hell was that?"

Reid clears his throat and hunches his shoulders forward. "Sam got some of them. They're keeping him for blood, so we'll be able to rescue him. There's no way to know exactly how many vampires are left, but we can't go in now anyway-"

"Like hell we can." Dean starts walking towards the house, frowning.

Spencer jogs next to him. "Are you always this rash with your decisions? There are too many witnesses. We have to wait until people go to work and forget about what's happened. It's too risky."

Dean stops and whirls around. "So you think we should just let him be tortured?" Dean growls. "You can do what you want, but that's my brother in there. I'm not gotta leave him there. Fuck your witness and risks. If this was a hostage situation-"

"It is a hostage situation, but there are different factors in place," Reid argues. "We are acting outside the parameters of the law."

"This is what we do!" Dean says throwing his hands up. "No one asked you to get involved."

Reid pauses, staring at Dean. "The two of you protected me. I'm trying to do the same for you, whether or not you realize it. I know how the law works, and I know that if you try to sneak in right now, at least three of the neighbors out here will see you and there's a 46% chance of it being reported. The local PD will get here before you know they're on the way, and then there's two different ways it can play out: you and your brother are apprehended for trespassing, the vampires play off anything done to him as self-defense. A nest of vampires stays here and keeps kidnapping people. The other scenario is that the police realize that the vampires are guilty and try to apprehend them, resulting most likely in them being hurt and more law officials becoming involved in something outside of their understanding. Do either of those outcomes sound ideal?"

"Please, nobody can predict the future," Dean says snorting.

"I'm analyzing the situation and using statistics to figure out the most likely outcomes. It could work out fine, but even if local law isn't involved, the vampires are awake now. If you go in now, they'll be expecting you. Our main goal is to get Sam out safely and neutralize any other threats. That is the best course of action, and actually only course of action."

Dean glares at Reid and sighs. "Alright, fine. We'll do it your way kid. Happy?"

"This isn't a situation that merits happiness," Reid says, "but I'm relieved you're not going to do anything reckless."

"So now what?"

Reid examines the old house, the neighbors talking outside, the black impala, Garcia's bright car. "We go back to my place, give Penelope her car back, and come back here in yours in half an hour. We park in the driveway, knock on the front door, and if no one answers, we go around back."

Dean snorts. "You just want to ring their bell?"

"They don't know what we look like. It's less suspicious."

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that right?" Dean says glaring at Reid.

Reid smiles at him and unlock Penelope's car. "I could say the same to you, but unlike you, I prefer to treat others with respect instead of trying to intimidate them due to my feelings of inferiority."

Dean's mouth drops, and Reid smirks slightly. Until he remembers Sam. Remembers that whatever happens to Sam until they get back is because of the decisions he's made today.

He should have stayed out of this.


	12. Torment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha. Has it really been a month?
> 
> Still gonna finish this fic, but I'm moving and also finally have a job! Updates may take a while. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with it so far!

Driving with Dean is terrifying. He has one hand on the wheel and the other is on his leg tapping along to the rock music blasting. Spencer tried to suggest turning it down, to avoid drawing attention, but Dean just turned the volume up instead, glaring at him.

Dean blames Reid for Sam being kidnapped. Reid doesn't blame him. He should have stayed out of it, but he wanted to help them, wanted to repay their favor.

And maybe... a part of him was still convinced it wasn't real. Even with Garcia confirming it. Even with the photograph. It still didn't feel real until he saw those two girls, bloodied and malnourished.

Apparently Dean has some tact about him, which Spencer should expect given his ability to remain off the radar, because when they near the neighborhood, he turns down the music to a respectable volume.

The sun is high in the sky, and the air has lost it's chill. Dean hands Spencer a machete before checking his jacket for his own. "You can't back out once you come in kid," Dean says. "There's still time to back out." There's regret in Dean's eyes, his face more tired than before, the anger disappearing.

"I told you I'd help you get Sam back," Reid says examining the machete. It's stained with blood. Dead man's blood, but also... other blood. From things he doesn't know about, that Dean wouldn't tell him about even if he asked.

Sam would. Sam would tell him.

Dean huffs, shrugs, and get out of the car. Spencer follows, checking his pocket for his badge, just in case. As long as the vampires don't turn them away, they have reasonable cause to enter and question. If that happens, Reid prays Dean will follow his lead instead of beheading the first vampire to open the door.

The goal is to locate and save Sam. He has to save Sam.

Dean raps on the door, ignoring the doorbell. His face is hard again, no longer showing the regret, the tiredness in his eyes. Spencer looks away from Dean, shuffling his feet as they wait.

"Looks like no one's gonna answer," Dean says reaching into his jacket.

Reid reaches out, grabbing Dean's arm. He shakes Spencer off, glaring at him. "You can't pick the lock out here. We have to go around back."

"Fine," Dean concedes. They walk around the back, Spencer looking behind their back as Dean tries to peer in through the covered windows.

"They originally kept the two girls in the shed," Reid says when they reach the backyard, "but my guess is they have Sam somewhere inside, somewhere that will be difficult to get to."

Dean kneels next to the backdoor and pulls out a lock pick. "What? Like the attic?"

Spencer nods. "According to the building plans for this house, the attic has a drop down staircase, which is the only point of entry. My guess is there will be at least one vampire guarding it, and if not, there will be some other trap."

The door clicks, and Dean pushes it open, reaching back into his jacket. Spencer follows behind, closing the door as he enters. It's dark inside, no light coming in through the windows. "Stay behind me," Dean whispers. Reid nods, swallowing slightly.

He's done this hundreds of times. Entered an unknown location, not sure what's waiting for him, not fully able to predict the outcome. It's not different this time. It's the same threat.

But the machete feels strange in his hands. He's not good with a gun- everyone on his teams knows that-, but at least he knows its weight. He knows how it feels in his hands even if he doesn't know how to aim it well. This... this machete feels useless. If anything gets close enough to him for him to be able to use the machete...

Dean stops, nodding towards the stairs. Spencer adjusts the machete in his hands, then follows as Dean ascends the stairs. The old wood creaks as they walk up the stairs.

Sam had told him vampires had stronger senses, better hearing. There's no way they don't know him and Dean are here.

Reid stops himself from grabbing Dean again, knowing that this time it's likely Dean will react by swinging the machete, instead tapping him on the shoulder.

Dean turns around, glaring at him. "They know we're here," Spencer whispers. "They have to be waiting for us."

"So?" Dean hisses.

"We need a plan."

Dean rolls his eyes and starts back up the stairs. "We rank these motherfuckers and get my brother back. If you're scared, you can still back out. Door's right there." He gestures with his machete towards the front door behind Reid's back.

It's a miracle Dean's alive, Reid decides.

The two of them keep creeping up the stairs until the reach the top. Reid crouches on the top step, machete held in front of him. The hallways empty, quiet. On the ceiling is a drawstring on a wooden board that must lead to the attic.

Dean walks down the hall, picking up speed as he nears the string. He pulls it, grabbing the boor and pulling down the ladder to the attic. No dust falls. It was recently opened.

"Sammy!" Dean yells, clambering up the stairs. Spencer winces at the way he holds the machete towards his body, still grasping it in his hand. "Get away from my brother you bitch!"

Reid glances over his shoulder, seeing no one behind him. He sticks the machete in his belt loop, climbing the ladder, staying low, peering over the step, watching as Dean charges.

Sam's arms are tied around a support beam behind him, his head drooped forward. A woman sits next to him stroking his hair, smirking as another person charges at Dean from the side, knocking him to the ground.

"You hunters really can't stay away, can you?" She says pulling Sam's head back. There's blood dripping from his forehead. She licks at it. "And I see you adopted a little pup too!" She cranes her neck, waving towards Spencer. "It's alright! You can come up."

Spencer hesitates before standing. She's cruel, but not a sociopath. She shows care for her family, disdain for hunters. She's intrigued by Spencer, though, and she likes having dominance. He waits for her to speak as the other person wrestles Dean to the ground, pinning him down and shoving the machete away.

"You look too young to be a hunter," the woman says, smiling at Spencer. She drops Sam's head, letting it bob a few times before she settles it with her hand. "Too innocent."

"It's probably because I'm not a hunter," Reid says frowning. He holds the machete in his hand, a little too tight. His hands are shaking. He shifts his weight between his legs, keeping his head down slightly. "I'm an FBI agent."

The woman cackles, clapping her hands. The person restraining Dean chuckles, ignoring Dean's attempts to wiggle free and the string of curses he's spitting out. "A federal agent! Working with hunters?"

"I was working on a case, trying to locate a missing girl. They... they told me they were agents working on a similar case." Reid looks down at Dean, who's still struggling. He'll get hurt acting like that. "They showed me their badges, I double checked with their supervisor, followed all the protocol... It wasn't until we got here that I realized they weren't agents. They opened their trunk... they had so many weapons. I-I didn't know what to do. They threatened me... told me to do what they said, gave me a machete..." Reid takes a deep breath, shaking. "This isn't what I do... I work a desk job, analyzing cases. I'm supposed to stay behind a desk!" His story is obviously working. The woman is more amused now, leaning forward with her hands in her chin. She lacks the anger from the phone call, the refusal to cooperate. Now that she has control again, now that she thinks Reid doesn't care, she's happy. She knows Reid lacks the physical strength to take down her or the other vampire. As long as she has control, she's happy to listen.

"Hunters can be tricky," she says glaring at Dean. "Do what they can, think they're riding the world of monsters, forgetting the families they tear apart as they do."

Dean frees a leg, kicking at the person restraining him, screaming, "We hunt monsters! We protect people!"

"You protect your own," she screams. She stands up, walking towards Dean. Reid watches her feet, analyzing her steps. She's angled herself away from Reid, no longer seeing him as a threat.

A few more steps, and she's almost facing away from him entirely. Reid readjusts the machete, ignoring the sweat on his head, the heartbeat pounding in his head, the trembling in his legs...

He runs forward, holding the machete forward as she turns around, shock in her face. The other vampire looks up from Dean, their mouth opening in a scream as the machete pierces her.

Spencer doesn't move, doesn't know what to do. She stares at him, her eyes wide, and laughs. "Little pup!" she hisses staring down at her chest. She sways. Dean shoves the vampire of him, grabbing his machete. Reid closes his eyes, trying to block out the sound of crunching as Dean brings the machete down. And down again.

The machete is gently pulled from his hands. Reid is still shaking, his eyes closed. A hand claps onto his shoulder, and he opens his eyes, staring at Dean. Dean's examining him with a slight frown. "It's over," he says, his voice gruff. Reid nods, not moving as Dean lets go, moving towards Sam.

He stares at the woman on the ground, the machete still sticking out of her now headless body.

Reid turns around and throws up.


	13. Aftermath

Dean stares at Reid as he wipes his mouth on his sleeve. The kid's shaking like crazy, but goddamn if he's not a fucking genius. Not like he would tell him that. He just didn't realize the kid could lie like that.

"You alright?" Dean asks. Reid nods, not moving. The shock'll wear off. First hunt is always the hardest. Kid'll be fine in a few days, as long as he doesn't get carried away and think he can start hunting shit on his own.

Sammy, though... Dean approaches him slowly. His head's still hanging down and his skin is way too fucking pale. "Hey, Sammy," Dean says nudging Sam's shoulder. His head swings to the side, but he doesn't stir. "Dammit!" Dean cuts through the rope restraining Sam's hands and catches him as he slumps forward. He glances back at Reid, who's starting to gain a bit of color. "Hey, kid, think you can help me get my brother out of here?" Reid nods and walks over. Dean props Sammy up on his shoulder and Reid supports him from the other side. "Told you to wait for me," Dean grumbles slinging Sam's arm over his shoulder. "Now I gotta drag you outta here."

"He's going to need to go to a hospital." Dean stops and glares at Reid. Well, he tries to but Sammy's big head is in the way.

Dean starts walking again. "Out of the question."

"He's lost a lot of blood. If you want him to recover, a hospital is the best option," Reid argues. The kid's breathing heavy. Not like Dean can blame him. When did Sam get so fucking heavy?

"We go to a hospital, people start asking questions, and our asses are on the line again," Dean says readjusting Sam's shoulder over his arm. "We'll just call Cas down when we get back to the hotel."

They pause at the top of the attic, trying to figure out the best way to get Sam down safely. No way in hell that the kid can catch him, and Dean doesn't think he has a better chance.

"How do you even think we'll get out of here?" Spencer asks. His face is pale again and his eyes are taking in everything around them.

Dean chuckles. "Bombs away," he jokes. The two of them work slowly as they lower Sammy down the opening until he's close enough to drop. Both wince. "Oof. He's not gonna be happy at me when he wakes up."

It takes longer than Dean would like, or Spencer by the way his eyes keep bouncing around, but eventually they get Sam to the backyard. Hard part is getting him back to the car without anyone notice, but apparently this kid really is a fucking genius because Dean doesn't even get a chance to say anything before the kid is calling in a false tip for domestic violence for a house on the street next to them. Needs enough cops to draw attention, but not cops that will be looking for them.

Maybe involving the kid wasn't such a bad idea. But Sammy should not have gone in alone.

Apparently Cas knows something's up and decides to fucking materialize next to Sam on the drive to the motel. "Fucking hell Cas!" Dean shouts swerving back into his lane. "You can't pop in like that when I'm driving!"

Spencer is fucking shaking in the seat next to Dean, his eyes staring straight ahead as he refuses to acknowledge the angel. "I wanted to make sure the hunt went well. Apparently, it did not." Cas holds his hand over Sam's forehead. Dean squints until the bright light disappears.

Sam sits up gasping, staring at the three of them. "I told you not to go in alone," Dean says. He doesn't say what he wants to. Doesn't thank god that Sammy's okay. But then again, god is an asshole who disappeared and left the angels to become a fucking cult.

"Good to see you too," Sam jokes rolling his eyes. "Thanks Cas."

Cas nods. "If my services are no longer required, I will leave you and return to heaven." The angel doesn't give them a chance to answer before disappearing with a loud flap of his wings.

"Angels," Dean grumbles. He turns the volume up on his radio.

"What happened?" Sam asks. Dean glances at the rearview mirror. Sam's eyes are wide, and his whole body is tense. "How did you guys get me out?"

Dean grunts. He doesn't want to admit to his brother that bringing this kid along probably saved Sammy's life. Cause Sam would have gone in without him anyway and gotten himself killed. So maybe Sam was right this once. "We were able to gank the last of the vamps without you." Dean glances over at Spencer. "Spencer was actually able to get their guard down." He clears his throat. "You did pretty good kid." Dean looks away but sees Spencer smile out of the corner of his eye. Sam's smirking in the backseat too. "But you are still not a hunter. And we're not getting you mixed up in all this shit," Dean adds.

"But it wouldn't be a bad idea to have an informant in the FBI," Sam says. "Someone who could keep their eyes out for unusual activity and let us know if something seemed like our kind of case."

Spencer squirms slightly in his seat. "That is highly illegal."

Dean laughs. "Kid, everything you did today was illegal. It's not about following the law. It's about keeping people safe."

"Just... think about it, okay?" Sam gives his best puppy dog eyes.

Spencer sighs and rubs his forehead. "I should have never stopped at that park."


	14. Parting of Ways

Because they left Penelope's car behind in their haste to get Sam to safety, after taking some time to rest and eat at the hotel, the three of them head back out. Both brothers have been pretty quiet since they got to the motel. And if they think Spencer didn't notice them gathering clothes and toiletries while he was resting, well, then they're just lying to themselves.

"So, you gonna stay with me or make sure Sammy doesn't wreck your friends car?" Dean asks when they get close to where the car's parked.

Of the two brothers, Sam is definitely less scary. "I'll go with Sam," Reid says, and Dean shrugs as he stops.

"Suit yourself. Have fun with the nerd."

Sam snorts but doesn't say anything else as him and Spencer get out of the Imapala into Garcia's car. "How are you holding up?" Sam asks as he starts the car. "First hunt can be... a lot."

"Yea... I'd... have to agree with that," Reid says softly. "I think I'll be alright."

Sam hums. "So, this... the supernatural... it doesn't scare you?"

Reid stares out the window as Sam starts driving. In a few days, someone will discover the bodies. If the bodies are left there. But it's best not to ask Sam about that. He's passed the point of plausible deniability, but the less he knows, the better. "I mean, it's different, for sure. A bit more... impossible... a bit more difficult to deal with, unless you have the right tools... but it's not too different from what I do."

Sam laughs. "I guess you're right. It might be helpful to do some research on profiling..." He's not asking for help from Reid directly, which is good. It doesn't even seem like he's implying that he wants help from Reid. Just that he's interested in learning new techniques.

"If you give me some resources on supernatural... things, then I'll give you resources on profiling and criminal behavior," Reid offers.

"Deal," Sam agrees. "Just... don't tell Dean. He doesn't think anyone else should be tied up in this life, but sometimes... I think it'd be better if people knew how to protect themselves."

"You know, we have to hide things from the public," Reid says. "There have been cases we've worked about domestic and international terrorism where we've had to feed false information to the public. And there was one case..." This is illegal, even giving out vague details... but it's in the past, and it might help Sam to hear about it. "It was based in this area, in D.C. I mean. And we knew where the... attacks happened. Like general locations that fit a theme. So using that, we were able to predict where the next attack would happen. But we weren't able to warn the public. And one of my colleagues knew someone who might be there. She had to decide whether or not to warn them... because she wasn't allowed to give any information. And there was a high chance of things going wrong. So she told her friend to stay home, not to go out. But didn't tell them why. Never did. Even when they asked."

"Because of confidentiality?" Sam asks.

"Because if people knew the dangers that were out there, what we protect them from... it would be too much for them to handle. So we do what we can to protect them, put systems in place that don't always work. And maybe they'd be safer with more information, but they're happier without it."

Sam sighs. "Dean would probably agree with you. I just... wish we could do more to protect people. Give them more tools to protect themselves without them having to deal with the supernatural first."

"So every... case... you work, are civilians involved? Does someone find out?" Spencer asks. Most cases they work involve civilians... it must work the same for them.

"More times than we'd like," Sam says sighing. "Sometimes we're able to work a case easily, but usually we're there in the first place because something bad happened. It's just how it is with this line of work."

Spencer sighs. "Yea... it really is."

"Well," Sam clears his throat as he pulls up to Spencer's building. "This is you. Dean's probably picking up dinner. I'll just... park it here and give you the keys."

"I'm guessing you two don't want to stop upstairs for anything?" Spencer asks. He shouldn't be sad about saying good-bye, would never have anticipated it.

"No, uh, Dean's gonna be pretty antsy to get going. Not that I can blame him. We are in the FBI's backyard." They laugh. Sam turns off the car and hands Spencer the keys. "Thank you, uh, for helping us out. If you need anything..."

"I know. I have your numbers. And uh, I can't give out too much information, but if we ever find a case that seems more... your style, I'll let you know." Sam smiles at Spencer, and he can't help but smile back.

"Stay safe out there," Sam says.

"As safe as I can. You do the same." Sam gives Spencer a thumbs up and gets out of the car, heading away without looking back.

It's a while later when Sam finds Dean's car parked at a near-by diner. He's sitting in the front eating a burger, so Sam knocks on the window. The locks pop open and Sam slides in. "Got you your rabbit food," Dean mumbles with his mouth full.

"Dude, wait till you're done chewing," Sam says grabbing the salad container from the floor. Dean chews more obnoxiously. "So we gonna hit the road after this?"

"Hell yea, we're getting the fuck out of here," Dean says. Not even bothering to swallow his food before he talks. "We're sending someone else next time there's a case here. Way too many close calls."

Sam shrugs as he takes forkful of salad and chews it. "Yea, but we got someone on the inside now."

"You think that kid's gonna actually help us out?" Dean asks. His eyebrows are lowered, like the same look he gives Sam when he's worried about him.

"He's not going to rat us out," Sam says. "Not sure if we'll hear from him."

Dean actually swallows his food before talking this time. "He was... he did good. Wouldn't be bad to have someone like him helping us out." Dean sighs and puts his burger down like he's no longer hungry.

"He'll be okay, Dean," Sam says. "He's tough."

Dean shakes his head. "He's a kid Sammy. A kid in a job too tough for him who got involved in something that he should've never known about."

"Most people find out eventually," Sam says. "At least he didn't lose anyone."

Dean nods. "Yea, guess you're right. Just... wish we could've protected him from this shit."

Sam remembers what Spencer said. About how his friend had to decide what to tell her friend to protect her without scaring her. About the cases he's worked that are confidential. "Dean... I'm pretty sure he's seen worse shit."

"Well, here's to hoping we don't see him again," Dean says picking his burger back up. "Less we hear from him, better off he'll be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who stuck with this fic! If y'all are interested, I might make a sequel with more shenanigans.


End file.
